


Wrong Number

by Rojia



Category: Inception (2010), dreamhusbands - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Wrong Number AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-19 01:11:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3590715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rojia/pseuds/Rojia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur answers his phone for a living, once it changed his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wrong Number

 

Arthur scowled at his computer as he adjusted the volume again, trying to drown out the moaning bleeding through his wall. Dear God he was going to kill Cobb the next day, with something blunt and heavy. He wasn't going to get anything done at this rate and his music didn't go loud enough to ignore it without blowing out his ear drums. It was the vibrating of his phone rather then the ring tone that got his attention in that moment, the shake of it on the desk, and he tugged out his ear buds in time to roll his eyes at the loud 'Oh Dom!' that made him want to gag.

 

He didn't know the number, at least not off the top of his head, but that didn't mean much in his line of work. He was the personal assistant to the CEO after all, it wasn't like people called him looking to talk to him anymore. He answered without really thinking about it and brought the phone to his ear, “Saito Engeneering, CEO office, Arthur speaking, can I help you?”

 

He heard a crowd, not a large one but there were people in the background, and the sound of a voice echoing over a P.A. System. “Apparently not, because you're not Yusuf...”

 

Over the years of answering phone calls he had become something of a connoisseur of voices. Accents, tone, general sound, he knew in an instant who most people were without them actually explaining themselves, and he liked this one. English accent, a strange sort of gravel to it, he could make millions as a voice actor. “No sir, does he work for the company?”

 

The chuckle that came over the line was a growling thing that made his skin tingle. “No, he's a chemist. Although you don't call them that.” There was a momentary hesitation, “You go to him to get medicine.”

 

Arthur thought for a moment, “A doctor? A pharmacist?”

 

“That's the one.” The man on the other end of the line seemed pleased with himself. “I mean we call the shop a Pharmacy but they're chemists.” Arthur shook his head a little, “Sorry if I ramble a bit I've been flying all day and Yusuf is two hours late to fetch me and I've had a lot of tea.”

 

Arthur chuckled a little himself, “It could be worse.”

 

“What, like no tea?” The voice sounded overly concerned behind the grin.

 

He may suddenly be developing a _thing_ for voices beyond just and appreciation. “You could be trying to work and have to listen to your roommate and his girlfriend going at it in the next room.” He sounded a little more cynical then he had planned.

 

“Ooooh.” The noise made him forget his cynicism. “That's a rough one. I don't think I'd have to worry about it much myself, I've never seen Yusuf actually take anyone home. I could ask him of course, but _**he's not here**_.” This time the other man sounded a little cynical.

 

“You could short sheet his bed.” Arthur felt his ribs shake at the sound of the man's laughter, like at a live concert with a lot of base. “No really, it's incredibly frustrating, my roommate used to do it to me all the time. Or fill up little paper cups with something like red kool-aid and set them on every flat surface in his room.”

 

Between chuckles the other man managed to ask, “Why would I do that?”

 

“Because it stains.” Arthur answered with a grin, “If he isn't very careful taking them all out he'll ruin the carpet.”

 

The man on the other end of the line laughed loudly, with no reserve at all even though Arthur knew he was somewhere public. He liked that. “I will remember that Arthur.”

 

Arthur smiled, “You're more then welcome to.”

 

There was a pause as another announcement went over the P.A. In the background, “Well Arthur it's been a pleasure. Just out of curiosity what number did I call?”

 

Arthur paused a moment, thinking better of giving his number out to a strange man he had never actually met. “Five two eight, four nine one one.”

 

“Ah.” The voice chuckled again, “That'd be why then, should have been nine one two.” Arthur was quiet, almost hoping the man wouldn't hang up, but far too soon the other man broke the silence. “It was wonderful talking to you Arthur, I hope you have a better night, and if ever I feel the need to prank some one I'll be calling back for ideas.”

 

Arthur smiled and without meaning to said, “I'll look forward to it.”

 

There was a pause, a quiet marked by the crowd on the other end, and then a chime as the call disconnected. Arthur stared at his phone for a moment, adding the number into his contacts as 'the sexy voice', and dropped his phone back onto his desk to a call of 'Yes Dom, yes'. He replaced his earbud and actively tried not to be sick on himself.

 

\- - -

 

Arthur reached out from under the cocoon of blankets and pillows he had made himself to dampen the noise from Cobb's room and grabbed the phone from where it lay on the mattress. “Saito Engeneering, CEO office, Arthur speaking, can I help you?” His voice sounded strange inside all the blankets.

 

There was a low, gravely chuckle that sent a familiar tingle up his spine. “Sorry to bother you again Arthur but it occurred to me that I never gave you my name last time we spoke.”

 

Arthur had to swallow a few times, “Are you stranded again?”

 

There was a pause and Arthur could hear what sounded like city noise. He could imagine this man, probably tall and well built, maybe wearing a nice business suit, and here he was on the phone with him. “Hopelessly and irrevocably, and I'm going to be put in jail for murdering Yusuf but that's another story.” Another of those chuckles, “At least I know where home is now, easier to get a cab that way, although your lot's cabs are far less friendly.”

 

Arthur hesitated, shifting a little in his blankets, “So you're stuck wondering the streets in search of a cab and realize that you hadn't introduced yourself to the man you called by accident almost a week ago?”

 

“Would you believe yours and Yusuf's contacts are right by one another? Ah here we are.” The sounds of him climbing into a car and the muffled sound of an address while he held the phone against something. The quiet sound of a breath at the microphone, “Care to keep me company on my way?”

 

“Goodbye Mr....”

 

“Eames.” He could hear the purr in the other man's voice. “Just Eames.”

 

Arthur couldn't help his own smile, “Goodbye Mr. Eames.”

 

“Goodbye darling.”

 

\- - -

 

Arthur sipped at his coffee, shook his head. All he wanted was a coffee from a coffee shop that tasted better then one from a gas station. He set the cup down, lamented his wasted money, and tapped the button on his blue-tooth. “Saito Engeneering, CEO office, Arthur speaking, can I help you?”

 

“Do you always answer your phone that way Arthur?”

 

Arthur's mind went numb at that familiar gravel and his elbow slipped into the side of the styrofoam cup. “God Damnit!”

 

“Careful darling, your intellect is showing.”

 

Arthur scowled at the air despite the thrill that swelled in his stomach at the nickname. “Very funny.” He grabbed the blanket off his bed, wiping at his pants leg and desk where the coffee had spilled. “What can I do for you Mr. Eames?”

 

“Mmm... I do like the sound of that.”

 

Arthur swallowed but didn't miss the slurring of the words, “Are you drunk?”

 

The chuckle rumbled in his chest even over the phone, “I am, and what of it?”

 

Arthur grasped for something, anything, that he could manage to say to that. “Nothing but you've made me spill coffee on my favorite slacks.”

 

“Slacks!?” He flinched a little at the volume. “Oh come now don't tell me you're one of those boys with his plaid button down and tan slacks with black socks.”

 

Arthur couldn't help the snicker, “Of course not.” He picked the coffee up, remembered it was empty and dropped it into the garbage can by his desk. “How do I know you're not running around in a skirt.”

 

Eames laughed, “Oh please, I'd never step out in anything less then a dress.” Arthur was sure he heard the heavy lidded eyes. “I'm actually wearing jeans and a shirt, no frocks, how about you?”

 

Arthur paused, “Did you just ask what I'm wearing?”

 

Eames laughed a little, quietly, and Arthur couldn't help but follow suit. “Well darling you're on to me.”

 

_Beep._

 

“Mr. Eames...”

 

_Beep._

 

“I did ask first of course.” He was rambling.

 

_Beep._

 

“Eames.” _Beep._ He was more forceful this time and Eames stopped, “I have another call.”

 

_Beep._

 

“Oh well far be it from me to interrupt work darling. Talk to you later.” There was a click and a buzz and he tapped the button on his blue-tooth again, “Saito Engeneering, CEO office, Arthur speaking, can I help you?”

 

\- - -

 

Arthur rolled back toward the wall again, lifting his phone and swiping through the received calls. Twenty nine in the past five days from numbers he didn't know, nineteen from works numbers, but not one from Mr. Eames. His finger hovered over the call button, staring at the letters that spelled it out, Mr. Eames... _Mr. Eames._ He dropped the phone, grumbled something about how stupid it was to worry about it, and rolled back over. Why couldn't he sleep? For that matter why was this man popping in and out of his mind while he was laying here not sleeping?

 

The quick, double buzz from the offending device was enough to bring him to tears, almost. That would be Mr. Saito, most likely needing him to send a car to get him from his mistresses house, because who else would text him this early? He hated his job on a more and more regular basis. He swiped a thumb across the message icon and it popped up for him to read.

 

**It's come to my attention that I may have drunk dialed you the other night, and as I can be an obstinate arse when I'm drunk I'm sure I offended you, and I apologize for it. I promise not to bother you again. - E**

 

Arthur stared at the phone, at the apology he'd just read, and and tried to think of what to say to that. It was an all too familiar occurrence when he talked to Mr. Eames, and he wasn't entirely sure if he liked it. He tapped at the keyboard a few times, none of the words forming on the screen seemed to come anywhere near what was racing through his mind. Eventually, without really noticing, he sent the first thing that he managed to type that made any sense.

 

**Actually you admitted to wearing dresses.** He watched the glaring LCD screen in the darkness of 1 am and waited for an answer. It dawned on him again how ridiculous this all was.

 

**I most decidedly did not. - E**

 

He laughed. **Oh yes, said you wouldn't be caught dead in a skirt though.**

 

Arthur could imagine the indignation in the answer that came quickly after that. **Well of course, I'm English not Scottish, we don't wear skirts. - E**

 

It was nice talking to him without actually talking. He didn't find himself getting distracted so easily by the way he curved his vowels, the way he laughed that made him shiver. It was kind of nice.

 

**I don't believe you.**

 

**Oh really? - E**

 

The answer was quick and then nothing. He was part way through what he considered a rather witty response about how nice he was sure Eames' calves were when another message popped up. Nothing appeared but a gray square and he considered he might have given Eames too much credit if he was just going to answer him with emoticons. He tapped the message and an image opened, and he immediately reevaluated that assessment.

 

Staring back at him with a a little wave was an absolutely gorgeous man who appeared to be only wearing a pair of garish purple paisley sweat pants. He had medium blonde hair swept back to reveal a pleasant face with blue eyes and the most ridiculous lips Arthur had ever seen. He had obviously just taken it laying haphazardly on a set of navy sheets, the camera held up in his other hand. Arthur's eyes went back and forth over the picture, memorizing the little curve of the smile on those god-awful, perfect lips. The broad shoulders and solidly built frame, even those absolutely dreadful pajamas. They were not at all the features he'd imagined the owner of that incredible voice looking like but so much better then everything he'd imagined at the same time.

 

The quick buzz-buzz had him swiping back to his messages. How long had he been staring at that picture?

 

**I've broken your phone then I take it darling? - E**

 

He could feel the rumbling chuckle even though he couldn't hear it.

 

His fingers searched for something sensible to type but nothing came to mind. The only things he could focus on were those lips, those shoulders, and just how low on his hips those terrible pants were. **Not at all Mr. Eames. I was just trying to decide if those pants were a mean joke someone played on you.**

 

**I happen to love these trousers. - E**

 

**Well it's a very mean joke then.**

 

He couldn't help the stupid grin as he sat there, alone in his room in the middle of the night as he texted a man he had talked to for no more then eight minutes. He was being stupid, and childish, and he didn't care nearly as much as he knew he should have.

 

**How do I know you're not wearing a dress? - E**

 

Arthur stared at the phone and shook his head. **Because I too, am not Scottish.**

 

**Prove it. - E**

 

Arthur stared at the phone. He wasn't talking to him, it was a text, but he was sure he knew exactly the timbre he would have used to say that and he had to take a very long breath.

 

**I showed you mine and all that. - E**

 

Arthur suddenly felt incredibly inadequate. He had always been thin, not scrawny but lean and gangly, and he'd spent no measurable time outside in the past month between work and trying to actually sleep. He was not broad and well built like Eames, he was not slightly tan like Eames, and he certainly didn't have any hideous pajama pants laying around. He looked around, grabbed the first shirt he found and pulled it on. He ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to keep it from looking too terrible although he wasn't expecting it to help much. When he was sure he looked at least presentable he dropped back onto the bed and held his phone up, searching for an angle he didn't absolutely despise and marveling at how paranoid he was about this.

 

He took the picture, scowled at it, took another one where he returned Eames' little wave and stared at it just long enough to feel self conscious about it before he clicked send. Why did he always look so young? He looked like a teenager in a collage t-shirt but at least he looked half-way decent.

 

He waited, and the two minutes that ticked by seemed like thirty before the phone buzzed in his hand again. **Harvard boy? - E**

 

Arthur looked down at his Harvard shirt and sweatpants as if they had said anything else. **Yes.**

 

**I've always said it should be Cambridge or absolutely nothing, but I've kept you up, and I'm sure you have to work. Goodnight darling. - E**

 

**Goodnight Mr. Eames.**

 

\- - -

 

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, “Hmmm... never have I ever... oh, been to a Disney park.” Arthur didn't drink and Eames laughed, “Really? But you live in the states!”

 

“There are other things to do in America besides go to Disney.” He stared around his room for something to inspire his next turn.

 

“Not that I've noticed.” The clink of ice as he took a sip, “You have to meet mickey mouse and ride the teacups at least once in your life or you aren't really American. Alright, your turn darling.”

 

Arthur's eyes landed on the computer. “Never have I ever signed up for an online dating service.” The clink of ice was unmistakable. “Really!?”

 

“Oh hush.” He chuckled deep in his chest somewhere and Arthur appreciated the fact he couldn't see his face turning pink immeasurably. “My mother is very pushy and knows how to use the internet.”

 

“But a dating service....”

 

“Yes well, things happen. Your turn.”

 

“No it's your turn.” Arthur laughed a little. “I just went.”

 

Eames made a noise that caused Arthur's lungs to stop working, “Alright, never have I ever answered a drunken call from a stranger and then proceeded to talk to him on a regular basis.”

 

“You're not always drunk.” Arthur drank, and a thought occurred to him, “Never have I ever fallen for someone based purely on their voice.” There was a pause and then the unmistakable clink of ice, and by the rules of the game, as he had lied, he drank as quietly as he possibly could.

 

 

\- - -

 

Arthur woke up the day after his birthday only half awake, his sleep short and perfectly terrible. Eames called him, like clockwork, between ten thirty and eleven his time every three days, and this particular call would have been the only time anyone besides Mr. Saito would have told him happy birthday, but he'd waited until two and no call had come, so he'd tossed and turned all night and he didn't know why.

 

He rolled over and hit the alarm button on his phone only to find a video message alert. He scrubbed at his face and hit the button to prompt the download. When the video began playing it was people he'd never seen, a handful here and there all wishing him a happy birthday, until he reached a pair who asked what it was for.

 

“A friend who can't make it here and is having a birthday.”

 

That was Eames. The girl in front of the camera asked who it was for and Eames answered with, “Arthur.” Even though they were clearly at a party and he could hardly hear it, he liked the way he said his name. A few more people he didn't know said something nice and then an Indian man appeared, “Come on now Yusuf say something nice.”

 

“Happy birthday Arthur.” So this was Yusuf.

 

The camera moved as Eames apparently went into his room and turned the camera around so it was facing him, “In case your birthday was terrible darling. Happy birthday Arthur.” The mischievous little curve of his lips froze as the video stopped. He watched it ten more times before he got out of bed.

 

\- - -

 

Arthur was restless.

 

He'd spent his whole day at work checking his phone at ever decreasing intervals, he'd found himself tapping his heel impatiently on the floor under his desk, and now that he was home he was driving himself batty staring at the phone on the arm of the couch. He was alone, Dom and Mal had gone out for the evening, and he'd opted to stay home because he knew he wouldn't be worth having along tonight.

 

Six months he had been talking to Eames at lest twice a week. Six months was a very long time to get into a routine, and sure enough he'd found himself wired when he hadn't heard from him like he usually did, every three days or so. He grumbled something under his breath about how stupid he was being and stopped his leg from tapping again. It wasn't even that he had anything to say to him really, he just missed hearing his voice, missed the chuckle that would accompany any silly little comment he made.

 

He missed Eames. He had never once met the man and he missed him like a friend that hadn't been home to see you from school in a year.

 

He was pathetic really, he knew it would end. This man obviously had more important things to do then sit on the phone with him and talk about nothing for hours. Even on nights when they'd had things to talk about, made plans for their own respective weeks, there had been nothing really said. They'd talked about their lives,their families to a point, Eames had explained the difference between 'bloody' and 'fuck', but they hadn't exactly been sharing the most intimate details of their souls or anything. They were just friends with unlimited talk on their phone plans.

 

If Eames called he wouldn't answer.

 

He wasn't at Eames' beckon call. Just because Eames called didn't mean he had to talk after all, if the man was so busy he couldn't call then he was too busy to answer. It was far too late to be up talking on the phone anyway, he had to work, he had to sleep even if he wasn't tired at all. He stood, stretched his back, turned off the TV he wasn't really watching and headed for bed. He would just forget about it, maybe delete the contact and the stupid picture he'd set to it of him laying back on those navy blue sheets with those hideous pants.

 

The phone rang and he answered it absentmindedly, “Saito Engeneering, CEO office, Arthur speaking, can I help you?”

 

“Sorry to call so late darling.” He winced at the pet name and felt his anger slipping through his grasp. “Just wanted to say goodnight before I caught a cab.”

 

“Oh?” Arthur tried to sound uninterested.

 

“I've stopped expecting Yusuf to pick me up places, it's cut down on my time wandering the city immensely.” He could hear what sounded like a crowd in the background. “I would have called sooner but my mum insisted I stay a few extra days and my phone doesn't work overseas like it does here, and did you know it would have cost one pound a minute to call the states?”

 

Arthur tried not to get sucked in by his outlandish response to such a thing, by the laugh when he made a joke he found funny, by the way he imagined Eames looked talking on his phone like this in the middle of the night to other people. He failed miserably.

 

Two hours later he hung up, the warm feeling on his skin from Eames' goodnight making his heart pound harder then anything else in recent memory.

 

\- - -

 

“What is that?” Eames asked, shifting around his room on the other end of the line.

 

“Just watch the movie Mr. Eames.” Arthur answered, watching his own TV as some alien or another went past. “I can't believe you've never seen Star Wars.”

 

Eames chuckled, “Well I've never seen much reason, but if you recommend it.” Arthur heard the sounds in his own room a second after they came over the phone. “Now why is Harrison Ford talking to a carpet?”

 

Arthur laughed, “You're a terrible date Mr. Eames.” As he words slipped out of his mouth he went still on his bed. This wasn't a date, this was him watching a movie over a phone with someone who he had never even met. It wasn't like he was even suggesting that it could be one, Eames knew what he meant.

 

“Just depends on what we're doing, darling. I'm terrible at films but I'm better at the end.”

 

Arthur swallowed, hard.

 

\- - -

 

“You will never guess what I'm doing right now Mr. Eames.” Arthur smiled at the thought of Eames trying to figure it out.

 

“Well by the sound of it you're in public so my guess is out.”

 

Arthur struggled to keep the pink off his face. “Oh please. I am currently standing in line with the bosses daughter to ride the teacups.”

 

“No.”

 

“Yes.” Arthur chuckled this time, the little girl holding his hand swaying excitedly next to him so much that she nearly knocked the blue tooth out of his ear. “And later I've got to take her to meet Mickey Mouse because her parents are working on a p-a-r-t-y for her.”

 

“See now you're properly American.” Eames answered with his own little chuckle. “And you picked a good first call to make I suppose. Try and have fun, I'll cal you later though, I've got to go tell a room full of ugly old men I'm not terrible at my job. Goodbye darling.”

 

“Goodbye Mr. Eames.” Arthur said in a half daze, had this been the first time Arthur had ever called him? He thought back, stepping forward in line absently. Every time they'd talked it had been around the same time at night, and he had, in fact, never once placed the call.

 

In his excitement to share this new development he'd forgotten that they both had jobs, that they both had real lives outside of each other, and he had just intruded on Eames', and Eames hadn't treated it like an intrusion. He felt a little thrill in the pit of his stomach and stared at the children and parents in line in front of them. He was a part of Eames' actual life, and he wasn't sure if that scared him or made him float a few inches off the ground.

 

\- - -

 

“So do you have any special plans for tonight darling?”

 

Arthur considered. “Dom and Mal said something about going out to dinner but nothing special.” He had never really made much of his own birthday, but this wasn't just his birthday, this was Eames'. This was different. “But this is Saturday night , surely you have a party to go to or a date for later.” He kind of hoped that he would say he wasn't dating anyone else, that they were in love, or something equally as disgusting and perfect.

 

“Can't say I do.” Eames chuckled a little, “Wouldn't want to have to miss out on our call after all.”

 

Arthur felt his heart racing in his throat. He knew how he felt, he knew how he wished Eames felt, but how exactly did you explain something like that over the phone to someone you'd never met? In nearly a year that they had been talking they had never even told one another where they lived. Eames knew he grew up in New York, was an only child, liked grilled cheese and tomato soup when it was cold, and that argyle was his favorite kind of sock. He knew that Eames was from London, had three younger siblings, loved paisley in garish colors, and that he had a voice that made Arthur's toes curl. They had exchanged pictures, he knew every curve of Eames face, he imagined Eames knew his as well, he even bought a bottle of Eames' preferred cologne just to see what it smelled like.

 

The truth of the matter was they hadn't been in the same room. “Well if I were there Mr. Eames I would take you on a date.”

 

Eames smiled, he knew because he'd heard it so many times before. “I wouldn't want you to take me anywhere darling.” Arthur was positive he heard the sound of blankets being moved. There was quiet on the other end of the line then, the kind of quiet that didn't invite him to fill it so he left it be. “Do... do you ever have ...” Arthur had never heard him stumble over his words before. “trouble, I suppose, sleeping? If we don't talk at night that is. I mean...”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Yes...” Another smile, slowly this time, “Here I was thinking I was mad.”

 

\- - -

 

Arthur didn't even look at the man properly as he mentioned, again, just how much he adored Arthur's dimples. He smiled a little, thanked him with curt nod, and sipped at his drink. He wasn't much into bars or clubs but Mal had insisted he come and all but dragged him out the door. Apparently he was spending far too much time in his room. He needed to socialize with real people not just talk on the phone.

 

She didn't know he was just out a few nights ago with Dom to buy a ring so he could purpose, and he wasn't going to tell her that, so here he sat. To his right an man, tall and pale with long hair and an ugly shirt, that looked completely at odds with the neon and the small dance floor, and to his left a perfectly attractive man with cheek bones for days and bluer eyes then were humanly possible. Yet here he was absently spinning his phone on the bar and not really paying any attention to any of it.

 

He was watching the second hand tick on and on and on behind the glass of the cat clock on the wall. He was ignoring the gorgeous man in a business suit that had bought him a drink and talked about god knows what for twenty minutes and all he could do was watch the minute hand creep from ten thirty toward eleven.

 

The man said something about maybe finding a table, a corner somewhere, he considered it for a moment before the edge of the phone he was touching vibrated in his hand and he looked down. Waving up at him with that perfect smile was Eames and he smiled back. “Actually, I have to take this.” He gestured to the phone as he pushed himself off the stool. “Thanks though.” He was out the door just in time to answer the call. “Saito Engeneering, CEO office, Arthur speaking, can I help you?” Eames laughed as he turned down the street.

 

\- - -

 

Arthur stared at the ceiling of his hotel room. It had been a week since he had talked to Eames, a discussion that had turned from the music they had been listening too while he wondered what it would be like to dance with the man to an explanation that they wouldn't be able to talk for a little while because he was was going out of the country for a few weeks. Arthur knew that it was something important, some kind of board meeting or another, but he still wished Eames didn't have to go. When he'd said as much he'd gotten a laugh he'd never heard before, but he liked it.

 

Now here he was, on a business trip with Mr. Saito, in the most romantic city in the world and he couldn't even describe Paris to Eames over the phone. He put a hand over his phone where it lay next to him and wondered if Eames was staring up at his ceiling thinking the same kind of thing.

 

As if on cue the phone buzzed twice and Arthur picked it up, opening the message with a swipe of his thumb. The gray square that indicated a picture popped up and he tapped it. It proved to be a shot of Eames in what looked like pajamas laying on a hotel bed. Under it a short message read 'wish you were here'.

 

Arthur stared at it for a moment and without hesitation tapped a few times at the screen and called him. The phone rang through and Arthur was surprised when Eames picked up, sounding as if he'd nearly been asleep. “Hello?”

 

“Hello Mr. Eames.”

 

The sounds of Eames shifting around, presumably to get in a more comfortable position, were almost as familiar as his voice at this point. “This is a surprise darling, I just sent you something actually.”

 

“I know, I just got it and thought I'd call.” Arthur chewed on his bottom lip, “I figured paying for one over-seas call wouldn't be a big deal, it's not like it's really that far anyway, I imagine.”

 

Eames chuckled a little, “Well the states are pretty far away at the moment.”

 

“I'm not in the states.” Arthur answered, his fingers absently drawing circles on the bed sheet, “I'm actually at a meeting in Paris. The hotel is lovely.”

 

There was a quiet on the other end of the line that Arthur couldn't interpenetrate. “Oh really? Where are you staying?”

 

Arthur smiled at the inflection in those words. “The Four Seasons George the fifth, right near the water and the Eiffel Tower.” He glanced out his window, “I can actually see it from my bed, of course I don't have one of the truly expensive rooms so it's not the best view but it's still a view.”

 

Eames chuckled, “In the 8th arrondissement?” Arthur made a somewhat affirmative noise and he heard the twist of Eames' mouth as he smiled and shifted around. “I've stayed there, it's a nice place. Which room are you in?”

 

Arthur smiled, “417. It's not the Parisian suite but I get the whole thing to myself.” He shrugged half heartedly, “To be honest this is one of the nicer 'plain' rooms I've ever had. There's a couch and everything.”

 

Eames laughed, “So the boss takes the big room and leaves you to fend for yourself?”

 

“There's a mini-bar and room service Mr. Eames, I'd hardly call this _fending_ for anything.” He rolled over onto his stomach and buried his face in his pillow, “I never thought I'd be in a hotel in Paris alone of course but at least I can't hear someone going at it through the wall.” There was a knock at the door and a woman's voice announced housekeeping. Arthur ignored it. “That would be interesting though, here it wouldn't be my roommate and his girlfriend, it could be the president for all I'd know.”

 

Eames chuckled a little but as he breathed in to say something the knock sounded again, “Will you get that before she barges in and starts hoovering your bed or something?” Eames started to say something else, a garbled, strange sound overtaking him, and Arthur pulled the phone away from his ear to look at the screen as it ended the call. Great, just wonderful.

 

Knocking on the door brought him out of his scowl. “Yeah alright.” Arthur was up, stretched his back, and got to the door as another set of knocks started. “I don't need any....” He stared at the twist of those perfect lips as Eames smiled at him. His mouth opened a few times as if to say something but nothing came out until finally his voice managed a weak, “Hello Mr. Eames.”

 

The words had barely left his mouth when Eames stepped toward him and pulled him in. Arthur felt his heart pounding in his ears as those disgustingly perfect lips met his and the entire hotel, hell the entire world, seemed to vanish around them. By the time they finally separated Arthur could hardly breath and he watched those lips curl into another perfect smile as Eames chuckled, this time actually vibrating all the way into Arthur's chest, “Hello Darling, I think we got disconnected.”

 

Arthur grabbed the front of the Harvard shirt he was wearing, which if he had looked at it he would have noticed exactly matched his own, and pulled Eames into the room.

 


End file.
